


let the world spin madly on

by espressohno



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Boarding School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, F/F, Some pining, a lot of bitching, jim kirk is an ok guy, mccoy and spock as teenage girls, this is not how college works, vague descriptions of academics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-05
Updated: 2016-01-05
Packaged: 2018-05-11 21:47:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5643103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/espressohno/pseuds/espressohno
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>a fem spones au where Spock (Sepphora T'chn T'gai) and Bones (Eleanor McCoy) are assigned to be roommates during their senior year. and then the school (Mary F. Somerville Preparatory School - not a real school) introduces an academic competition.<br/>sabotage and mean looks and sarcasm ensue</p><p>also in this au: Jim Kirk being a little shit and also a great friend, Spock being sleepy, Gaila being a ball of energy, and everyone being super gay</p>
            </blockquote>





	let the world spin madly on

**Author's Note:**

> written as a Christmas present for my lovely and my #1 nerd Celeste
> 
> hope you guys like it! (also, let's maybe not talk about how I keep writing trashy boarding school aus)

Eleanor was standing in the sunlight of the quad. She was surrounded by anxious freshmen and their families, all scrambling to get their schedules and room assignments. The school itself was beautiful. Of all of the private schools she had toured, it was the one with the most open space and a more coordinated set of buildings. Even so, Eleanor preferred to see the campus when they were well into autumn and she could walk around without being bothered by plucky underclassmen. She was so caught up in thinking about the year ahead of her and the color of leaves that she couldn’t hear someone sneaking behind her until there were two hands over her eyes.

“If you’re not Christine Chapel I’m going to judo step you to the ground.”

“Guilty!” Christine sang. Eleanor turned to face her and they hugged each other for what felt like forever. It was stupid and sappy, but after being with her family for three months, she was finally home again. 

“Let’s go get our schedules before the place is flooded.” Eleanor wordlessly agreed. Christine linked their arms at the elbows and they walked to the table marked “GRADE 12, A-M”. 

While in line, Christine went on and on about her family’s trip to Japan, comparing it to their previous trip to Taiwan, and once again complaining that her parents for some reason refused to take them to Europe for once. 

“I mean Japan was great, not as pretty as Korea, but great. Still, I’m tired of the southeast. If I’m going to get any notoriety around here for being worldly, I need to see some damn chateaus, you know what I mean?”

“Not really. My mom and I went to Paris for a couple weeks in July.”

“Again? You hate France.”

“That’s what I told her. But she loves the place and my dad got sick again so she ‘needed a pick-me-up’ or something. I spent most of the trip reading old surgery handbooks in an antique store across the street.”

“You’re a nerd.” They reached the front of the line and Christine looked up to say  _ Chapel and McCoy.  _

“At least I don’t complain all the time about how my family keeps taking me all over the world.” 

“I do not--thank you, have a nice day--I do not complain  _ all the time _ .” They walked away from the crowd, behind the dining hall and towards a hill that was shaded by an oak tree, their established hang-out spot since freshman year. Eleanor dropped her backpack on the grass and laid down, taking a deep breath. Christine laid down next to her. The two of them watched the sky in silence for a few minutes. Sunlight poured through gaps in the tree branches and the air carried distant sounds of talking and laughter and goodbyes. 

“So, other than Paris, how was your summer?” Christine asked, somehow making the small talk question sound genuine and sincere. 

“It was okay.” Eleanor closed her eyes, “I finally came out to my parents.”

“No shit. How’d they react?”

“I honestly don’t think they were listening. But they probably wouldn’t have cared anyway.”

“That’s good.”

“Yeah.” 

They didn’t talk for a while after that. Christine rolled onto her stomach and started making tiny braids in Eleanor’s hair, something that she would normally get yelled at for, but today it didn’t seem to matter. They had wordlessly agreed to wait until the rest of their friends had arrived to find out their room assignments. Secretly, Eleanor was hoping to be one of the lucky seniors with a single dorm, but she would have been content rooming with one of the handful of people she actually liked at this school. 

The next to arrive of the aforementioned handful of tolerable people was Nyota Uhura. It was her last day to be able to wear anything other than their blue-and-gray uniform, so she had kept up the tradition of dressing in bright red. Nyota was, arguably, one of the most beautiful people that Eleanor had seen in her lifetime. She didn’t waste any time wandering around nostalgically and made her way up the hill. She made a show of flopping onto the grass next to Christine. 

“I had to go to so many Model UN conferences.” Nyota huffed. Her family wasn’t the travelling type. She saw most of the world through her extra-curriculars, but even then the itinerary had little breathing room. 

“She’s about to say something about how boys suck.” Eleanor said with one eye open and Christine snickered.

“I’m so glad to be back.” 

“Are you talking about boys up there?” A voice called from a couple yards away. Everyone sat up to see Gaila walking towards them. Her red hair was a couple inches longer and her already tanned skin was even darker, face covered in freckles. “We went down to Puerto Rico again to visit my mother’s family. Guess who was there on, of all fucking things, a boy scout trip.”

“Oh my god.” Christine probably knew just from Gaila’s tone of voice. She was good at reading people like that. Eleanor sighed, positive that whatever Gaila was about to say would probably harsh her finally-parent-less mellow. 

“Gaila, I don’t want to hear about your sexual exploits with boy scouts in Puerto Rico.” Eleanor whined.

“Jim Kirk.” Gaila choked on laughter, barely breathing enough to say more. “He’s a boy scout!”

“Well I’ll be damned-”

“I didn’t hook up with him, don’t worry. He was too busy earning his merit badge for flower collecting or something. He had a friend, though.”

“A boy scout friend? I’m seriously doubting you right now.” Gaila stuck her tongue out at Eleanor. Luckily, the mention of Jim Kirk didn’t piss her off too much. Jim usually only pissed her off in person, at every event Sommerville had with its brother school, E.W. Roddenberry. As much as she tried to evade him on those occasions, he was always waiting around the corner with a shit-eating grin and another idiot plan to spike the punch.  

“No. Not a boy scout friend. Well yes. But no. His name was Gary or Mitchell or something.”

“Those are two very different names.” Nyota chimed in. 

“It was only a one time thing. I didn’t even get his number.” 

“Heterosexuals make no sense to me.” Eleanor sat up and Gaila joined them in the grass.

The four of them formed a circle and started opening their schedules. After a few minutes Gaila and Nyota grinned at each other. 

“I knew it! Fourth year in a row.”

“There’s no way this is a coincidence.”

“Maybe the school is just secretly racist.” Eleanor mumbled and stared down at her room assignment, a part of her hoping she could intimidate the name into being someone she knew.

“Well,  _ I _ have a single room.” Christine’s face went from excited to concerned when she saw Eleanor, “Wait, does that...please tell me you got one also.”

“Who is Sepphora?” 

“Oh my god.” Nyota’s eyes widened. 

“Wait, isn’t that…?” Gaila looked around, confused. Nyota nodded. 

“She’s rooming with Spock.” Nyota barely got the sentence out before snorting with laughter.

Christine put a consoling hand on Eleanor’s shoulder. 

“I still don’t know who that is. Although I recognize the Star Trek reference.”

“She was in my English class freshman year. Once I asked if I could borrow a pen and I actually thought she was going to kill me just for  _ thinking _ I could speak to her.” Nyota shuddered.

“I had to sit next to her in Physics. Didn’t say a word. But she got crazy good grades.” Christine thought for a minute, “How have you never met her?” 

“I think Spock is doing Engineering or something.” Nyota said, shrugging.

“She’s probably a total shut-in.” Gaila added.

Eleanor willed herself not to be pessimistic about this. She’d roomed with a stranger before, and it was more of a cohabitation with the occasional small talk. But based on what she was hearing, and the fact that her new roommate was comparable enough to a Vulcan that people didn’t call her by her actual name, the year would probably be off to a shitty start. 

“Hey, I’m sure it won’t be that bad. You two will probably just end up hardly seeing each other during the day and never speaking.” 

“Great.” 

As they compared schedules and felt relieved that at least all of them would see each other at one point in the day, Eleanor couldn’t help but think about this mystery roommate. The antisocial ones were usually on extreme ends of the spectrum, conspicuously wealthy or there by a miracle combination of scholarships and the waitlist.

Extremely rich Spock would probably be an asshole. On the other hand, though, waitlist Spock would probably be self-deprecating or annoyingly poetic. She told Christine her predictions during dinner and Christine said she was being cynical. 

“I’m always cynical.”

“Well I hate to let you down in your little pre-judgement game but I think Spock comes from about the same financial standing as you and me.” 

“My money was on waitlist.” Gaila pushed her empty plate to the side and started eating the unwanted parts of everyone else’s meals. The dining hall was loud with everyone reunited. Maybe it was just because Eleanor was in a good mood, but even the dinner tasted a little better than usual, chicken and pasta and grilled vegetables that might have been fresh.

“I’ve been thinking I might go gluten free.” Nyota said, giving up and dropping her plate in front of Gaila. 

“Good lord why.” Christine passed Gaila her plate also, her years of etiquette training still evident in the way she wiped her face with her napkin and folded her hands in her lap instead of on the table. 

Nyota shrugged.

“You’re already thin, Ny, what do you have to gain by not letting yourself eat pop tarts?”

“I already don’t eat pop tarts.” Nyota eyed Gaila suspiciously, “You’re the one who eats pop tarts. Besides, I hear that it makes you more alert.”

“So does speed.” Eleanor mumbled. 

“Or, consider this: replace gluten with speed. Double alertness.” Christine quirked her blonde eyebrows. Nyota snorted. 

The bell rang and everyone cleared the tables before sitting down again for the principal’s welcome back speech. 

The speech was long, as usual, lagging on with cookie-cutter statements about how  _ this is our year, girls _ , and other attempts at encouragement. The freshmen ate it up with sparkly eyes and open mouths. Eleanor yawned and wondered if it would be uncouth to rest her head on the table and fall asleep, and Christine whispered  _ don’t you dare. not again _ in her ear before applauding a particularly inspiring bit.

Eleanor was caught between the devil and the deep blue sea, really, although she couldn’t decide if she was mean enough to label Sepphora as the devil or cowardly enough to consider her the deep blue sea. Either way, she didn’t want to sit and listen to an hour of formalities for the fourth year in a row, but at the same time it was wholly unappealing to face the fact that she’d be rooming with a stranger,  _ an infamous stranger _ , starting tonight.

On the walk to the upperclassmen dorms she campaigned for someone to come back to her room with her as a buffer, and only recieved a pat on the back and some platitudes for her efforts. 

“Just go in there like you belong there. Because you do. Because it’s your room.” Gaila offered.

“Don’t be shy and befriend her as best you can.” Christine rubbed her tired eyes, and Eleanor was almost bothered by the fact that she didn’t seem grateful  _ enough _ of her single room. Almost. 

“That’s not how social anxiety works, Christine.”

Christine sighed. 

“A girl can dream.”

“Maybe just, try not to be as sassy as usual when you first meet her?” Uhura chimed in. Christine nodded at that and suddenly everyone’s eyes were on Eleanor, as if their advice would somehow collectively solve everything. 

“This is where we leave you.” Christine said when they reached a fork in the hallway. Somehow, as if having a roommate outside of her friend group wasn’t enough, Eleanor also happened to be assigned to the left wing of the senior floor, with everyone else in the right wing. After some half-hearted  _ you can do it _ ’s and a bout of finger guns from Gaila the three of them were down the hall and out of sight. 

Eleanor paced in the hallway for a few minutes, stared at the ugly paisley carpet from decades ago, and waited for a few more groups of students to pass by before sucking it up and going to her room. 

All of her luggage had been delivered that morning and, due to her prioritization of spending the day with Nyota Gaila and Christine, it was still sitting all packed up on the right side of the room. On the left, however, the bed, desk, and built-in shelves were meticulously organized, no luggage in sight, and a girl who Eleanor assumed was Sepphora sat on the edge of the bed, typing on a macbook with such rigid posture that it must have been occupying half of her concentration. Sepphora didn’t flinch or even look up when Eleanor had opened the door, and she didn’t bother to introduce herself as Eleanor proceeded to start unpacking her side of the room.

Which Eleanor was perfectly fine with, even if it was a little unsettling. She unpacked clothes and bedsheets and books, trying and failing to be as neat as her roommate. When it was all done she slid her trunk to the foot of the bed and kicked her suitcase underneath. She sat on the same pinstriped bedding her mother had bought her before freshman year, and felt the silence start to become more and more awkward. She was about to reach for her computer and find something to do when Sepphora spoke up. 

“If the silence bothers you, we can engage in stereotypical new roommate small talk.”

Her voice was deep and cold and bored, carrying just the right amount of inflection every few words to avoid sounding monotone. Eleanor wasn’t entirely put off yet. She risked a response.

“I’m Eleanor.”

“I know.”

Eleanor clenched her teeth at that, replaying Nyota’s advice about  _ not being as sassy as usual  _ even though Sepphora was starting to deserve it already.

“I guess we don’t need any stereotypical roommate small talk, then.” She said, trying to hold back the bitterness that started dripping from her words. It had been a long day, a long journey to school, and a long afternoon of stressing over her living conditions for the next year. 

“No, I suppose we don’t.”

_ You suppose _ , Eleanor stopped herself from saying. Instead she said, 

“Well is there anything I should know about you? Seeing as we’re stuck with each other for the next ten months.”

Sepphora squinted at that, looking up from her laptop, and Eleanor finally got a clear view of her face. She didn’t wear makeup, which wasn’t too unusual. Her eyebrows were ridiculously well-kept, though, and Eleanor wondered if she intentionally styled them to point up slightly at the ends. It only made her look more like Mr. Spock, which couldn’t be helping with the name-calling situation. 

Eleanor concluded that, all in all, she was nice looking, but probably a mythic bitch.

“Call me Spock to my face.” She said primly, before looking back to her computer, “Since you’re going to call me Spock behind my back. Don’t call me Sepphora.”

“Um, okay.” Eleanor was a little taken aback that she had  _ requested _ to be called by a snide nickname, but she let it go and started getting ready for bed. Spock didn’t look up or try to make conversation for the rest of the night. When she finally stopped typing and left to brush her teeth Eleanor sleepily looked at the clock; it was almost two in the morning.

 

***

 

Ignoring her roommate easily became a part of Eleanor’s everyday routine. Eleanor always woke up early, because showering alone and undisturbed in the hall’s communal bathroom was worth losing an hour of sleep. Sepphora--Spock--slept like the dead as it turned out, so she could go through her whole morning routine without waking her up, and she was out the door and walking to the front of the breakfast line before Spock’s alarm even went off. 

The only class they had together was their Independent Study science class. Nyota was in the class too, so Eleanor had someone to talk to at least, and although it looked like Spock didn’t have any friends she seemed to have no problem looking occupied. 

At the end of the day it was more awkward, since both of them had to, at one point, return to their room. Spock seemed to have a habit of sitting on her laptop until well past midnight. Eleanor’s body adjusted to sleeping through the indefinite sound of keyboard clicking, but she wasn’t happy about it. The two of them usually didn’t speak to each other unless to ask school related questions. Once in awhile Eleanor would be at the tail end of a long and shitty day and couldn’t stop herself from muttering about  _ that goddamn loud as hell keyboard  _ to which Spock would always remind her that  _ earplugs can easily be purchased in the campus school supply store or obtained from the nurse’s office  _ and then Eleanor huffed and turned towards the wall and pulled her pillow over her head.

In October the Independent Study teacher threw a wrench in their already not-so-peaceful cohabitation. 

“This is not so much an assignment as it is a contest, but that being said, the school neither condones nor approves of competitive sabotage.”

Eleanor rolled her eyes. Over the years the Sommerville girls had acquired a reputation for playing dirty in every academic, athletic, and artistic competition. It was downright embarrassing, really. 

“This year, as some of you may have heard, a handful of top universities have decided to offer scholarships to graduates of our STEM programs. In order to be eligible for these scholarships, though, students will have to complete an extended essay in the field and topic of their choice.”

She continued going through the rules and requirements of the essay, but Eleanor had already checked out to rack her brain for an essay topic. She pulled out her notebook and started writing down whatever came to mind, a collection of unfinished hypotheses and unasked medical questions from the last three years. Nyota took one look at Eleanor’s hand practically flying off the page and leaned over to whisper, 

“Is it that much of a big deal?”

Eleanor didn’t look up from writing  _ forensic analysis - time of death based on insect activity in and around the body  _ but it didn’t distract her from responding. 

“You may not have looked at this  _ handful of top universities _ , but it’s on the library bulletin board and MIT and Johns Hopkins are a part of that handful.” she whispered. 

“Shit, this is a big deal.”

After their teacher passed out rubrics and retreated to her desk everyone went to work. Laptops and notebooks were scattered over everyone’s desks and they were writing and brainstorming as if the deadline was in twelve hours instead of three months. 

Halfway through the class Eleanor got up to sharpen her pencil, instinctively scanning her classmates and intentionally glancing back to the corner of the room where Spock always sat. She assumed that Spock would be typing away at her computer like always and probably churning out a full first draft by the end of the class, but it was the opposite. Spock was sitting with her laptop closed and her desk otherwise completely empty. Her eyebrows were furrowed in deliberation and she was eerily still with her chin propped on her hand, staring at nothing. 

Eleanor smiled when she sat back down, because something about the sight of Spock with  _ no _ idea what to do felt like the beginning of a victory.

 

***

 

“So,” Gaila flopped down onto the grass and crushed about a thousand dead leaves in the process, “how’s the nerd competition going?”

“I’m surprised you’re not in it, seeing as your defining moment of junior year was winning a writing contest with Harry Potter fanfiction.” Nyota replied. 

“Hey! I changed the names, and it was an alternate universe. Practically an original work.” 

Gaila stuck her tongue out at Nyota and they both laughed. The two of them had been assigned as roommates all four years and had developed the kind of sisterhood people write sappy movies about. They were better at living together than a married couple; Gaila always tolerated with Uhura’s long winded rants and weird sleeping hours and Uhura not only read but edited Gaila’s writing, whether it was an English essay or Potterotica. Eleanor was jealous of their relationship more than ever, especially because Spock’s contest entry had her spending long nights at her desk with  _ all of the lights on. _

The second night it had happened she got up and turned off the lights, and Spock had whipped her head around and gave Eleanor a look that nearly turned her to stone. Normally Eleanor didn’t fall for shitty intimidation tactics like glaring, but after the month and a half she’d been living with Spock the rumor that she was a sociopath started to fit too well. 

Instead of getting up to turn off the lights every five minutes, Eleanor started to spend her nights trying to come up with an equally annoying way to throw off Spock’s game. 

She was lying down in the grass listening to Nyota talk about her essay topic, feeling the weight of an entire week of sleep deprivation and Spock’s bitchface and the cafeteria’s coffee machine out for repairs. She got so busy fantasizing about spending the weekend sleeping in and working in the lab that she must have been half asleep by the time Christine joined them under the tree. 

“What’s wrong, Chris?” Nyota asked. Eleanor opened her eyes and saw a very disgruntled looking Christine Chapel joining their circle. She took her jacket off and laid it on the grass before sitting down on it. 

“Someone in my Medical Terminology class just tried to throw off my essay.”

“No shit, what’d she do?” Gaila pushed herself up on her elbows.

“She  _ just happened _ to trip over one of the computer cords. I lost over an hour of work.”

“Why do you think she did it on purpose?” Eleanor asked. Christine didn’t seem like a likely target; Eleanor couldn’t remember her ever making an enemy. 

“Well…” Christine looked down at her lap, “I might have checked all of the medical books out of the library last week.”

“You little minx.” Nyota gasped. 

“This essay is stressing me out so much, I had to do  _ something.  _ Do you know how many people are writing about topics similar to mine?” She sounded like she was about to burnout from stress. Eleanor had never seen her have trouble with academic pressure before. It would have been fascinating if she wasn’t so concerned. Christine was rubbing her forehead, probably from a headache. 

“Oh, honey.” Nyota scooted closer and pulled Christine against her chest. Christine frowned and leaned into it, closing her eyes. 

“I’m glad I don’t get into that sabotage shit. It’s never worth it.” Eleanor mumbled. The three of them spent the rest of the evening carrying sixty three books back to the library. 

 

***

 

Eleanor was seconds away from tearing her desk apart. She searched through her backpack and under her bed and in all of the dresser drawers and was about to start  _ actually _ panicking when she turned around and saw Spock awake in her bed and staring at her.

“Are you looking for something, Eleanor?” Spock asked, and her voice was thick with sleep but it still carried enough sass to indicate that she definitely knew the answer to that question.

“Yes, Spock, don’t mind me, I’m just missing  _ the most important notebook in my life right now _ .”

Spock sniffed and scrunched her face uncharacteristically, and Eleanor realized that she’d never seen Spock wake up in the morning before. 

“Your reaction to a lost notebook is very dramatic considering you could have been recording all of your lab work virtually.”

“ _ Jesus fucking- _ ” Eleanor dragged a hand across her face before it hit her, “you did this, didn’t you?”

“If you’re suggesting that I am responsible for the fact that you lost your lab notebook, I feel I should remind you that you are being dramatic.”

She didn’t look like she planned on getting out of bed, probably since it was at least a half hour before her alarm would go off. It just felt odd to Eleanor that she was having a conversation with Spock while she was wrapped up in a duvet with drooping eyelids and  _ bedhead _ . 

“I don’t need this from you right now, okay?” Eleanor stepped closer to the bed, feeling her face start to heat up. Spock watched her nonchalantly. 

“If you want my advice,”

“I don’t.”

“If you want my advice,” Spock continued, “The time you’re spending antagonizing me could be spent recreating the experiments that you had written down.”

“You piece of  _ shit _ .” Eleanor stepped forward and grabbed her by the shoulders, pulling her practically halfway out of bed. She was definitely stronger than she gave herself credit for, but Spock didn’t seem to be fighting back at all. 

Clearly Spock had some issue with mornings, because at every other time of day when Eleanor had to spend time with her she was a statue, all perfect posture and cold stares, but after yanking her upright her body started to sink back down slowly. She had sleepily wrapped an arm around Eleanor’s neck for leverage when both of them froze. Spock’s eyes widened and Eleanor untangled them and retreated to her side of the room. 

She was almost done shoving everything into her backpack so she could run out of their room and never return when Spock spoke up, still sitting in bed.

“Yesterday when you tried to argue with me in the laboratory, you left the room quickly in an attempt to have the last word, and you left your lab notebook on the table.”

Eleanor groaned loudly. Of course. 

“Alright, first of all,” She threw her backpack over her shoulder and walked to the door, “I was not  _ trying _ to argue, that was a two-sided argument. Second, it’s not even surprising to me that you would withhold that information from me, and third, here’re some last words for you: you’re a bitch.”

Eleanor slammed the door shut and stormed off to the lab.

 

***

 

Before they knew it, it was nearly December, and the tension between Spock and Eleanor was becoming entirely unbearable as their deadline approached. Christine had established a rule that Eleanor wasn’t allowed to complain about Spock for longer than five minutes because once she passed the first few sentences about Spock’s  _ stupid hair _ or her  _ god-awful study habits _ or  _ that bitchy face she makes every time she thinks she’s winning _ Eleanor won’t stop for hours. 

Talking her friends’ ears off didn’t really matter at this point, though, because it felt like she had spent more time in the lab than she had spent anywhere else during that month. 

Finally it was Friday evening, four hours after class got out, and she had finished her lab writeup. It was the last of five experiments she planned to use as evidence in her extended essay on the pattern of bone structure relative to the exposure to different waves of the electromagnetic spectrum. Since the school looked down upon using actual human bones, Eleanor had settled for different animals that had a similar enough bone structure to humans so that she could come to a conclusion about the impact of technology and radiation. Overall she was pretty confident about her submission, to the point where she didn’t care to ask what Spock was doing.

Something dumb and overly-detailed, probably.

Eleanor slipped everything into her backpack and left the lab, making her way through the almost-empty hallways. On Friday nights everyone was either in their rooms or sneaking off campus, and although Christine and Nyota had convinced Eleanor to sneak out quite a bit during the past three years, she liked being alone at the school. It brought her a sort of peace, to be able to walk alone through this place that felt so much more like home than anywhere else she’d lived. 

Eleanor stopped to read one of the flyers on the wall about community service opportunities. Suddenly she heard familiar and annoyingly robotic footsteps approaching her. Not wanting Spock to throw off another one of her good moods (which were relatively rare, these days), she decided to ignore it. Until the absolute moment when she couldn’t.

“Eleanor.”

“What, Spock.” Eleanor turned around and crossed her arms over her chest. Spock ever-so-slightly straightened her already perfect posture, lifting her chin a little. It was an unspoken intimidation game that they had been playing nonstop for the last six weeks, and since there was no clear winner, there was no clear end to it. 

“I know you have been intentionally disorganizing my desk every morning. I wish for you to know that it does not deter me from achieving higher marks than you.”

“If it’s not deterring you, then why are you confronting me about it?”

“This is not a confrontation. I am merely informing you of the fact that your attempts to increase your academic standing over me are not working.” 

“Wait hold on. Are you trying to gloat or something?”

“No.”

“Alright, so you tracked me down after hours, which is creepy by the way, just to  _ inform _ me that you’re making good grades. Don’t you think I already know? I think you’re trying to gloat.”

Spock’s eye twitched slightly. 

“Regardless of the fact that that would be awfully juvenile of you, it’s also useless, because we have the exact same GPA.”

The air was full of unspoken  _ I hate you’s  _ and for some reason Eleanor couldn’t stop thinking of bitchy things to say. 

“And since we have the same grade point average, that would mean we theoretically should be tied for valedictorian right now. But you probably know that.” 

Eleanor stepped closer. Spock was glaring back at her, motionless. 

“And you also know that since it’s impossible to have two people ranked number one, The system puts me first.  _ Alphabetically _ .”

“If you are attempting to draw an act of violence from me, it will not work.” Spock finally said, voice tight. 

“If I wanted to draw an act of violence out of you,  _ Sepphora _ , I would do this.” 

They were already close enough that Eleanor only had to lean forward slightly to press their lips together. Spock was frozen, and it was practically like kissing a wall. 

Eleanor pulled back and smirked, confident in the fact that she had won tonight. She walked away, leaving Spock standing in the middle of the hall. 

About an hour later, she was still pleasantly alone in their room, checking emails and trying not to think about the fact that Spock was the first person she’d kissed in almost a year.  _ It wasn’t even a good kiss, why am I still thinking about this.  _ She sighed. Once Spock came back they would probably pretend it didn’t happen and the game would continue. 

The door opened and Eleanor instinctively stood up. She turned around and Spock was standing in the doorway, something like desperation written across her face. They stared at each other for almost a minute before Spock slammed the door behind her and practically ran towards Eleanor’s desk. Eleanor couldn’t process what was happening fast enough to react and suddenly she felt a hands on her face and something that was definitely not a wall kissing her like she had never been kissed before. It took a couple seconds before her only thought was  _ fuck it _ , and she pulled Spock’s body flush against hers. Spock responded by pressing Eleanor against her desk, trying to regain some control. Eleanor’s breath hitched as she was trapped between the desk and Spock, who was now trailing kisses down her neck that were more teeth than tongue. 

"Fuck." Eleanor breathed, her hands exploring as much of Spock as possible because this was definitely going to be a one time thing. Spock hummed in response, pausing to focus on the skin of Eleanor's collarbone. Spock's cold hands travelled up her shirt, which she remembered being tucked in a minute ago, and every light touch of her fingers sent shivers spiraling through Eleanor's body.

"Fuck. What are we doing."

"You need to stop talking." Spock's voice was lower and she hardly lifted her mouth as she talked. Eleanor figured it was best not to complain. She tangled her fingers in that stupid perfect hair instead, pulling on it until Spock moaned into her neck. A few minutes passed of Spock's mouth on her neck and Eleanor's hands in Spock's hair.

"You're wearing the wrong bra size."

"Oh my god shut up and just take it off." Eleanor pulled her arms back so Spock could slide her shirt off.

"You should be about a 32C, but this is a 34B."

"Seriously. What are you trying to accomplish by telling me this right now." She went ahead and took her bra off herself, making a note to find out if Spock was right sometime in the future.

"Now you. Come on." Eleanor started undoing the buttons on Spock's shirt, catching a glimpse of black lace before Spock made an impatient noise and went back to the making out. She moved lower this time, lips over her collarbone, her hands running up her sides and over her breasts. Eleanor arched into it, the pain of the desk against her back long forgotten by now. 

"So uh. Are we going to get any further than this or what." Eleanor panted, trying to regain some of the bitchiness she had earlier. It probably didn't sound the least bit powerful so much as it sounded pleading. Spock didn't respond, choosing instead to only focus on Eleanor's top half. 

"Do I have to fuckin do everything..." Eleanor muttered into Spock's ear. She grabbed one of her hands and practically shoved it under her skirt.  _ Maybe this'll get the message across you piece of shit. _

Spock traced circles over Eleanor's inner thighs agonizingly slowly. Eleanor responded by pulling Spock's hair again, this time in a way that would probably hurt if she didn't suspect that Spock was totally into it. With her mouth still sucking at the base of Eleanor's neck, Spock finally slid two fingers into her underwear and rubbed against her clit almost too hard. Eleanor breathed hard.

She remembered knocking papers off of her desk, holding onto the edges until her knuckles were white as she got closer and closer to the edge. She could hear Spock's breath hitch as she was hit with one of the best orgasms she'd had in the last year. Eleanor's body tensed up and the entire world went away except for her and Spock. 

As she started to come back down, sweat beading on her forehead, Eleanor remembered that Spock was still practically fully clothed.

"Now you." She mumbled, her head still floating in the afterglow, "Come on. I'm a bitch but I'm not that much of a bitch."

"You should go to sleep."

Eleanor frowned. Spock pulled her upright and started moving towards the direction of Eleanor's bed.

"No. This is not over until you have an orgasm." Eleanor felt sleepy and care-free and satisfied. She willed herself to sound in charge, to convince Spock into letting her reciprocate, but for some reason Spock continued to push her into bed and stupidly, she stopped protesting. 

 

***

Eleanor woke up the next morning to an empty room. She tried to think of a reason Spock would have left before her, and then she remembered. It all hit her at once--the kiss in the hallway, the sudden one-sided desk sex, Spock’s lace bra--and she hoped it had been some weird stress dream. Having a stress induced sex dream about Spock wouldn’t have been ideal either, seeing as it meant she was somehow sexually attracted to  _ Spock,  _ but it was at least better than actually having had sex with her.

She pulled back her duvet, and just as she feared, shirt and bra were both gone. She sat up and pressed a hand to her neck; there were definitely bruises. 

Never in her life did Eleanor think she would regret good sex. She picked up her clothes, discarded earlier because apparently she had been in a hurry to get naked with Spock of all fucking people. She had to take a second to subdue some nausea before going into her dresser. 

The drawer was empty. Eleanor opened another one, also empty. She looked through the entire dresser. 

Spock had taken her clothes. 

Eleanor searched her side of the room for whatever else could be missing, but her backpack was still there with everything in it, her laptop was still plugged in at her desk, nothing had been taken in an attempt to fuck with her essay. The only things Spock took were her clean clothes and her makeup. 

 

_ Oh.  _

 

Suddenly she understood why Spock’s little prank was so weird. All of the students submitting an essay had to interview with the head of the science department today. That was Spock’s sabotage. 

She must have come up with it pretty quickly, after Eleanor had kissed her in the hallway. Spock then proceeded to come back to the room and initiate sex, giving her an opportunity to cover Eleanor’s neck with a tacky collection of hickeys. She could’ve stopped there, except the orgasm put Eleanor to sleep in minutes. 

And then Spock took her clothes and her makeup bag, and wherever she must have put them, it meant Eleanor would be showing up to an interview with the head of the science department as if it were a pit stop on her post-hookup stumble home. Eleanor wanted to scream. 

It was actually a pretty brilliant trick. 

She hastily put her clothes from last night back on and grabbed her backpack before all but sprinting to Christine’s room. 

Christine must have been asleep because it took about ten knocks on the door for her to open up, dressed in pajamas and yawning. She gave Eleanor a once-over, and seconds after noticing the wrinkled clothes and the hickey-stained neck she gasped and yanked her inside.

“What the _ fuck _ , Ellen?”

It was more of a this-is-not-how-I-raised-you look than she’d ever gotten from her own mother.

“I’ll explain later, I promise, but this is code red, Christine. I’ve been played.” Eleanor was talking a mile a minute, trying to get the words necessary out so Christine would help her and she could avoid her stress manifesting in either a panic attack or a homicide.

“No, you know what,” Christine rubbed her eyes, “I don’t even want to know the details right now, It’s too early. Just tell me why you’re here.”

“She took all of my clothes and my makeup, and I have an interview with the science department in an hour and a half.”

“Okay. So clothes, concealer,” she squinted at Eleanor, “dry shampoo.”

Eleanor nodded. She still couldn’t believe what was going on.

Christine’s clothes fit well enough. She was a little bigger, her uniform shirt a little looser around the bust and longer in the arms, but it was better than the alternative. Eleanor pulled one of Christine’s school sweaters over it and the outfit was passable. 

The two of them spent the next half hour sitting on the floor with Christine mixing concealer and bronzer and foundation and trying to even out the coloring on Eleanor’s neck. 

“Not that I’m terribly surprised, but why the hell did you have sex with Spock?”

“Honestly that’s probably the last thing I want to talk about right now.” Eleanor sighed. Christine continued layering concealer on her neck. Her fingers pressed into the bruises and they ached, bringing the memory of the night before back in unsettling clarity. Eleanor had been really into it. Like,  _ really  _ into it.

“Wait.”

“What?” Christine’s hands paused.

“What do you mean you’re not terribly surprised?”

“Um…” 

Eleanor was about to glare at Christine in her peripheral vision when there was another knock on the door, much less urgent.

“It’s open.” Christine called. 

Nyota walked in, looking perfect as usual and, unlike Eleanor, like she was on her way to a successful interview. She was startled by the sight of the two of them sitting on the floor with Christine’s hands over Eleanor’s neck. 

“What’s going on in here?” She sat down on the bed.

“Spock got Eleanor to have sex with her and it turned out to be another one of their little sabotage games.” Christine explained, adopting the disappointed mother tone once again. 

Nyota blinked at Eleanor before she burst out into laughter. 

“It’s not fuckin’ funny.” Eleanor griped. Christine shushed her and tilted her head to the side to get behind her shirt collar. Nyota took heaving breaths that kept dissolving into more fits of giggling. Finally she was back to normal, only snorting a little bit the next time she looked at Eleanor and understood the neck makeup situation. 

“Nyota, since you’re here, can you help me explain why Eleanor and Spock having sex was not a surprise?”

“Uh.” Nyota played with the hem of her skirt, “Because Spock is probably extremely sexually repressed and Ellen gets horny when she’s challenged?”

“I do _ not- _ ”

“Oh hush.” Christine tutted. She did one last inspection of Eleanor’s neck and fixed her hair before standing up. “We need to go get breakfast anyway. Nyota can tell us her full psychoanalysis then.”

“And  _ you _ can tell us all the details of your hookup. Just wait until Gaila hears about this-”

“There is no way in hell I am telling Gaila.” Eleanor stood up, her legs and back starting to ache. 

Fifteen minutes later she was glaring at her black coffee and trying not to touch her face and neck while Gaila cycled through about a hundred different reactions in her seat across the table. Nyota was still giggling into her breakfast and Christine watched the three of them in amusement.

“I… can’t, oh my god, I can’t believe this.”

“I just can’t believe Spock willingly touched another human being, even if it was fake.” Christine said.

“Was it fake though?” Gaila asked, raising an eyebrow at Eleanor.

“She’s not a good enough actress to fake an orgasm. Spock would’ve seen right through it.” Nyota took a sip of her orange juice.

“Will you two _ stop? _ ” 

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry.” Nyota laughed.

“One more question though, and then we won’t talk about it anymore.” 

Eleanor squinted at Gaila before muttering  _ fine _ and hiding her face behind a coffee mug. Gaila grinned and she started to regret allowing whatever question she was about to ask.

“Tell me about Spock’s O face.”

Nyota choked and had to slap a hand over her mouth to avoid spitting juice on the table. Christine’s face lit up.

“Oh my god, actually though. I can’t even imagine it.” Christine leaned closer and propped her chin up on her hands. Eleanor’s face turned bright red. 

“She… didn’t.”

“She didn’t… she didn’t what? She didn’t come?” Gaila asked.

“Eleanor!” Christine batted her on the arm, “You didn’t reciprocate?”

“I couldn’t! She didn’t let me!” Eleanor blurted out. Nyota shook her head and picked up her fork again.

“You should have known you were being played right then.”

“Okay, Nyota, why don’t you try and be such a great mystery solver when your head’s full of oxytocin?”

“I’m just saying.” Nyota held her hands up in defense. 

Eleanor pushed her food to the side and laid her head on the table. Christine patted her hair in consolation. 

 

***

 

The interview went fine. Eleanor practiced smiling in the mirror for the ten minutes leading up to it. She tried to smooth her hair down and sweeten her accent and she walked into the department head’s office like there was no place she’d rather be. The woman was all smiles and asked questions that sounded like they’d been repeated so much they lost meaning. Eleanor talked about her goals of going to medical school and her interest in stem cell research and before she knew it she was being thanked for her time and led out of the room. 

She took long breaths on the walk back to her dorm, trying to rid her psyche of the terrible morning she’d had. The cold air seeped through her clothes and was starting to bite when she hurried into the lobby. 

Eleanor was ready to take a long shower and lay in bed until dinner time. She opened the door to her room and sighed in relief that it was empty. If everything was still missing she could pull something out of her laundry hamper, or just steal from Spock’s dresser. She sat down on her bed and pushed off her shoes with her toes when something on her desk caught her eye. 

It was her makeup bag. Spock didn’t try to put it back where it was before but, after further inspection, it still had everything in it. She turned and walked to her dresser. All of her clothes were back inside, folded neatly and organized by color. She groaned and slammed the drawer shut. Spock was a goddamned ninja if she’d ever seen one. 

She was in the middle of  _ reorganizing  _ her drawers like they were before when the door opened and Spock quietly stepped inside. Eleanor didn’t want to turn to look at her. From the sound of it, she was acting like nothing had happened, setting her bag down at her desk and booting up her computer. Eleanor pulled out blue jeans and two sweaters and clean underwear to change into and grabbed her toiletry bag. She glanced at Spock on her way to the door. Spock was standing at her desk as her computer turned on, and Eleanor stared at her hair, long and dark and falling straight down her back. There was no way she wasn’t straightening it every morning. 

“Nice trick.” Eleanor said. Spock turned around slowly. 

She walked towards Eleanor, very obviously staring at her neck. Eleanor was about to ask her what the hell her problem was when Spock suddenly smiled. It was only a subtle curve of her lips but at the same time it might have been the most terrifying thing Eleanor had ever seen. 

Spock raised her index finger to her mouth and licked it, and Eleanor was frozen as she reached forward and dragged her fingertip down her neck, wiping away a line of the makeup. 

“Nice trick.”

Eleanor’s hands clenched into fists and Spock walked back to her desk. As good as it would feel to punch Spock in the kidney, she tried to cling on to whatever self control she still had in her and left the room. 

 

***

 

Everyone submitted their essays on the last day of the semester. In the time between the interview and the turn-in date Eleanor had forced herself to play nice. Part of it was because she considered herself morally above the pulling pranks, but mostly she just didn’t want to know what else Spock was capable of . They hadn’t spoken to each other at all, returning to their previous routine of avoiding each other. Eleanor was actually starting to _look forward_ to going home for Christmas. 

Gaila knocked on Eleanor’s door when Eleanor had just barely woken up. She padded across the cold floor and opened the door up to a burst of red-haired, Puerto Rican energy. Gaila was wearing a reindeer pin on her uniform, the final act of holiday rebellion after continuously getting busted for trying to wear Christmas sweaters to class. 

“Hey, uh, good morning.” Eleanor rubbed her eyes, “Not that I’m not happy to see you, but what are you doing here?”

“Nyota’s stressing out about turning in her essay and I need a break from all that negative energy. So I’m here!” Gaila pushed her way inside. Eleanor stood at the open door for a minute before she finally gave in to her fate. Gaila flopped onto her bed, and the springs creaked loud enough that Eleanor saw Spock shift on the other side of the room. 

“So, Eleanor.”

“Yes?” Eleanor started getting dressed, ignoring the fact that she probably had two people watching. 

“Tell me you’re coming to the winter dance. It’s gonna be wild this year, and,” she rolled over onto her stomach, “the boys are gonna be there again.”

“None of the things you said appeal to me.”

“Come onnnn, you know you’re going to come anyway. And  _ I _ know you’ve been dreaming about the buffet table since they switched caterers last year.”

Eleanor sighed. Gaila was right, and her weakness for fancy bite-sized food was also getting extremely out of hand. They both turned when they heard Spock sit up in her bed.

“Spock! Good morning!” Gaila smiled. Eleanor could see on her face that she was still not over the fact that the two of them had hooked up. 

“Hello Gaila.” Spock pushed her hair out of her face. Even in the winter she always slept in black leggings and a camisole. The thin straps were hanging around her shoulders and Eleanor tried not to look at her skin, pale and smooth and annoyingly distracting. 

“Do you two know each other?” Eleanor asked. She pulled on Christine’s sweater over hers and Spock squinted at the action as if Eleanor' fashion choices personally offended her. 

“No.” Spock said. 

“Is your family doing anything fun for Christmas? I already know Eleanor’s going to spend the break doing nothing like always.”

“Hanukkah is already over.” Spock got out of bed slowly, another installment of her struggle with mornings. Eleanor made herself turn around when she started getting dressed. 

“That’s a shame you weren’t with your family.” Gaila said, still happily lounging on Eleanor’s bed and somehow not even slightly afraid of Spock. 

“I don’t consider it a shame.” 

Once Spock was finished getting dressed she started packing up her bag, slipping her essay, printed out and almost half an inch thick, into a file folder. 

“Do you want one?” She looked at Eleanor. Eleanor raised an eyebrow.

“One what?”

“A folder. Your essay will appear more professional if all of the pages are intact.”

_ Like I’m gonna lose one of the pages  _ Eleanor grumbled. Spock held out an empty folder for her anyway and she walked over to grab it. 

“Thanks.”

Spock nodded. Eleanor tried to figure out why the fuck Spock would be helping her now, right before the very end, and if it was possible for a folder to be part of some intricate plan for ruining Eleanor’s life. Gaila gave her a confused look and she shrugged. 

She would have brought it up over breakfast but Gaila was right about negative energy. Nyota was silent the whole time, looking like she was mentally counting down the seconds to the end of the world. Christine was pretending to be calm, but she was stabbing her scrambled eggs like there was no tomorrow, and Eleanor wondered why she wasn’t stressing out. She was so worried that she wasn’t stressing enough that she started to stress about not being stressed. 

Gaila looked around the table and gave up.

“Okay I was dreading my art final but now it really doesn’t seem so bad. I’ll meet you guys at the dance.”

“I’m not going.” Eleanor whined. 

“Yes you are.”

She winked and waved goodbye and left Eleanor with two human sized balls of angst. 

 

***

 

Turning in her essay after the three months she spent on it somehow felt less satisfying than Eleanor expected. She didn’t put it in the folder Spock gave her, because even though she couldn’t think of a reason an empty folder would be another trick, she couldn’t think of a reason Spock would just spontaneously be nice to her either. Eleanor was never good at trusting people anyway; she went to the school store and bought another folder before turning it in to the department office. 

She made sure to do it after her last exam, so that she could feel the combination of everything she’d done that semester being finished at once, but the reality of having turned in the essay that might be the difference between getting accepted at Johns Hopkins and getting waitlisted didn’t kick in until about an hour later. 

Eleanor paced around her room, nervously chewing at her nails as if there was anything left that she could do. She started thinking about whether or not her concluding paragraph could have been rephrased and then she remembered that there was a party going on. 

If anything, the winter dance would give her something else to complain about instead of the long list of unknowns that had collected after turning in her essay. Plus, if she didn’t go, Gaila would never let her hear the end of it.

She dug through her dresser for something nice and ended up putting on a black sweater dress over the tights she was already wearing. She stood in front of the mirror and it vaguely looked like she was on her way to a funeral, which only made her start wanting to go to the dance even more. She dug out a pair of flats and went to Gaila’s room. 

Gaila’s face lit up when she answered the door, dressed in something green and poofy. 

“You’re coming! Nyota, she’s coming!”

Nyota was sitting at her desk putting makeup on, wearing a tight red dress that was only a few details away from what she’d worn to last year’s winter dance. She gave a halfhearted  _ yay _ , too focused on lining her eyes to look up. Eleanor sat down on Nyota’s bed and watched her put on eyeliner while Gaila finished getting dressed. 

“You look like you’re going to a funeral.” Nyota said. Eleanor smiled. 

“Is that a problem?”

“I guess not.”

“We’ve already submitted our college applications  _ and  _ you guys turned in your extended essays, so we could say it’s a funeral for the death of caring about high school.” Gaila bent over to slip on a pair of high heels that looked tall and sharp enough to kill a man. 

Nyota snorted, hand still steadily drawing a perfect cat eye. 

“Like I’ll ever be able to stop caring.”

Christine showed up a few minutes later, and then the four of them hung out in Gaila and Nyota’s room until about a half hour after the dance was supposed to start. Nobody went to school dances to have fun anyway; they were only going so they could look hot and eat appetizers. It wouldn’t be a bad end to the semester. 

They had cleared the tables out of the dining hall and replaced them with a buffet and a dance floor and a gross amount of blue and white streamers. The dance floor was full of underclassmen pretending to have a good time and flirting with all of the gross teenage boys that had been bussed in from Roddenberry. Eleanor scanned the perimeter for an empty space against the wall where they could spend most of the party loitering. Nyota and Gaila went to get them all punch while Christine joined Eleanor in her loitering plan. 

“Looks like it might not be as lame as last year.” Christine said, leaning close to Eleanor’s ear so that they could hear each other. Blue had always been Christine’s color, which was how she managed to get away with wearing the same light blue dress for every school formal occasion. It was still in great shape, velvet and drapey and only a little tighter than it had been the first time she wore it, which only made the dress all the more flattering.  

Eleanor suddenly felt a little out of place in her thick black dress. 

“Don’t worry, ladies, the punch is not alcoholic.” Gaila called, passing out plastic cups full of something red and artificially flavored. 

“Not yet.” Eleanor muttered, and Christine laughed like sunshine and took a cup. 

They stood in a circle and swayed to the music, picking up the conversations they were having earlier at the dorms, until finally Gaila gave in and dragged them all to the dance floor. Even though it was stuffy and crowded with freshmen dancing to trashy pop music they still joined in. Before she knew it Eleanor was dancing too. They held hands and spun in circles and went through a number of awful dance moves, and ultimately, it wasn’t a terrible time. Everyone was smiling and laughing when Eleanor slipped away to find the bathroom.

She was sweating and her cheeks were flushed from dancing, but otherwise her reflection in the mirror wasn’t that bad. Eleanor wiped her face and neck with a paper towel, but in doing so she also accidentally wiped the makeup off of the fading bruises on her neck. 

Ever since the interview Eleanor had covered the hickeys with makeup every morning, and even though both her and Spock refused to talk about it, she caught Spock glancing more than once at her neck, covered or uncovered. It was almost as if Spock needed confirmation of what she’d done. Eleanor responded by pretending they weren’t there. 

She stared at herself for a little while, messing with her hair. Eventually she gave up on the tangles and tied her hair into a bun. A few strands of hair started to fall loose when she started walking but Eleanor figured it probably looked fine. 

Seconds after walking out of the bathroom she bumped into someone, mumbled  _ sorry  _ and was heading back towards the dining hall when they spoke up.

“Do my eyes deceive me, or is that Eleanor McCoy?”

Eleanor suppressed a groan and turned around to face Jim Kirk. He was wearing a dark blue suit this year, with no necktie but a red flower in the front pocket. She looked at the flower and back up at Jim, who was grinning like seeing Eleanor was the most amusing thing he’d ever experienced. 

The story of their relationship only went back to freshman year. The two of them were opponents at Eleanor’s first (and last) debate tournament, and it had gotten her so heated she was dismissed by the moderator. Jim won by forfeit, and found Eleanor pouting in the hallway to offer her a cup of over-sweetened coffee.

In hindsight, he must have meant it as a peace offering, but Eleanor assumed he was trying to gloat. She was mean to him then, and continued to be mean every time she saw him, but he kept coming back for some messed up reason. Eleanor saw him mostly as a nuisance and occasionally as a tolerable nuisance. 

“I wish my eyes were deceiving me right now.” Eleanor griped. Jim smirked at her, resting his hands on his hips. 

“Always the charmer.” He said, and Eleanor sighed, exasperated. 

“I’m not the one with a goddamn dahlia in my suit pocket.”

Jim cocked his head to the side, still smiling like the cheeky piece of shit he was.

“I know you meant that as an accusation but you lost your malice when you correctly identified the flower as a dahlia.”

Eleanor rolled her eyes. 

After a minute of the two of them watching each other, Eleanor half glaring and Jim clearly looking for something annoying to talk about, by some coincidence, Spock showed up. She was in a black turtleneck shirtdress that was eerily close to what Eleanor was wearing. The main difference between the two of them was the fact that Spock had actually put a lot of effort into braiding and pinning her hair up. Once she was finished giving Spock an unintentional once-over Eleanor realized that the two people she wanted to see the least were now right in front of her. 

It got even weirder, because Jim was talking to Spock like he  _ knew _ her. 

“Wait, do you two know each other?”

Jim turned away from Spock to look at Eleanor, clearly confused. 

“Do  _ you _ two know each other?

“Eleanor and I are roommates.” Spock said. She didn’t look at Eleanor, which was weird, seeing as the only exchanges they’d had in the past three weeks comprised of Spock giving her weird looks. Eleanor brushed it off and went back to the more pressing issue of how the fuck Jim and Spock knew each other. 

“Oh my god, Spock, why didn’t you tell me? This is incredible. You two are like, polar opposites.” Jim was looking back and forth between the two of them in excitement. 

“Yeah,  _ we know _ .” Eleanor muttered, “More importantly, since when are you two friends?”

“I don’t understand why this is so confusing to you, Eleanor, seeing as you have been pointedly  _ not _ interested in my friends.” Spock finally looked at her and her face was uncharacteristically hostile. Eleanor almost stepped back. 

“I’m confused,  _ Spock _ , because _ you don’t have any friends _ .”

Jim’s eyes widened and he breathed out in a low whistle, awkwardly trying to place himself between them. 

“Sepphora and I go way back.” Jim propped his elbow up on Spock’s shoulder but it didn’t distract from the staring contest that had broken out. Both of them had gone from annoyed with Jim to visibly seething at each other in a manner of seconds. And now Eleanor was even more upset because  _ out of all people why does this asshole get to call her by her real name. _

“We’re both from Scarsdale. We met in Hebrew School, right Seph?” Jim chuckled, trying to get Spock to give up before somebody punched somebody else to the ground. Spock slowly blinked and nodded in confirmation. 

“That’s correct.” She said, but Eleanor could hear in her voice that Jim’s attempt at calming her down was not working. 

“Her parents want us to get married.” Jim said with a fake dreaminess to his voice. He smiled suggestively at Spock and her mouth twitched. Eleanor couldn’t believe that this was actually real.

“They do not.” Spock argued. 

“Oh but they do. I went home two weekends ago and you wouldn’t  _ believe _ who showed up at my door to take me out to dinner.”

“They did  _ not _ .” 

Jim grinned even wider. Spock did what Eleanor had learned was her equivalent of a facepalm, closing her eyes and pressing her fingertips to her forehead. Eleanor forgot how pissed off she was with Spock for a minute because Jim and Spock being childhood friends was actually hilarious and a little poetically just.

“She was my first kiss, did you know that Eleanor?” He raised an eyebrow and Spock exhaled softly. 

“It was on the cheek and a result of my mother’s coercion. Not a kiss.” 

“There was tongue.”

“There was  _ not _ .” 

Eleanor was staring at the two of them in disbelief when her actual friends showed up. 

“We’ve been looking for you!” Christine hooked arms with Eleanor, Gaila and Nyota trailing behind. They were all breathless from dancing and Gaila was missing her heels. 

“Also, it tastes like there is definitely something in the punch.” Nyota said, holding up an empty plastic cup. She extended a full one to Eleanor and Eleanor shook her head no. 

“Aha!” Jim pumped a fist in the air. “Oh, by the way, Gaila, Gary keeps asking about you.”

“Gary!” Gaila smacked her palm against her forehead, “His name was Gary, guys.”

“I’m guessing you don’t want me to give him your number, then.” 

“Yeah, maybe not.”

“Although,” Jim stepped away from leaning on Spock, offering his hand to Gaila, “I do know some boys you would definitely be interested in meeting.”

“Well lead the way, my good sir.” Gaila picked up the punch that Nyota was still holding and took Jim’s hand. “And this better be a nicer selection than last year.”

“Don’t worry. I can guarantee that one of them is a great kisser.”

Jim winked at Eleanor and the two of them walked away. Eleanor watched them go, trying to figure out how Jim Kirk managed to weave his way into people’s lives everywhere he went. Spock was still there for some reason and Christine made some small talk with her before, unsurprisingly, making an excuse to go back into the dining hall. Nyota latched onto her and Eleanor was about to follow them both when Spock spoke up. 

“You did not use the folder I gave you.”

Eleanor turned around.

“What?”

Spock blinked at her.

“The folder. I gave it to you for your essay, and this afternoon I saw it on your desk.”

“Oh, right. Yeah I didn’t use it.” 

“Why not?” 

“Did you expect me to trust you after all the other shit you’ve done?”

“It was a  _ folder _ .” Spock seemed like she was genuinely upset that Eleanor hadn’t accepted her little peace offering. It was as if she wasn’t aware that Eleanor had a handful of very valid reasons to be suspicious of her. Eleanor shrugged.

“Well sorry if I hurt your feelings, Spock, but I didn’t want to take any chances.”

“My feelings are not hurt.” Spock raised her chin in the air, “I was simply unaware of your capacity to be petty.” 

Eleanor was just about ready to storm off, but she didn’t want to spend the entire break tossing and turning over unsaid comebacks. 

“Petty? You want to talk about being  _ petty _ ?” She had to cross her arms over her chest to avoid shaking with anger, anger that had been building up and simmering inside of her ever since she met Spock. Spock didn’t say anything, silently waiting for the oncoming storm. 

“I’m not the one who uses  _ sex _ to manipulate people. What, do you think you’re a character in Gossip Girl or something?  You don’t even see me as a threat to your academics. I know you don’t.”

Spock opened her mouth to say something but Eleanor cut her off.

“Which means you were being terrible just for the sake of being terrible. Even from the first day we met. You had no reason to be an ass; you just were.” Suddenly it came to her, like finding a light switch in the dark and cluttered room that was her and Spock’s relationship. “And I think I know why.”

Eleanor smiled at her and the redness started to return to Spock’s ears. 

“I think that  _ you _ think that nobody could ever want to be in any sort of relationship with you. Maybe you had some bad experiences in the past or something but that doesn’t matter. What matters is that you know what to expect from people who hate you. You probably can’t even imagine someone _ actually  _ liking you, can you?” She spat out, feeling like a weight was being lifted off of her shoulders. 

“That is not true.” Spock whispered. 

“What is true, then? Because I find it pretty fuckin’ hard to believe that you somehow get off on making enemies.” Eleanor took a step closer and Spock stepped back, almost far enough to hit the wall. 

“Please leave me alone.” 

“Alright, fine.” Eleanor turned to go holding up her hands in surrender, “As you were, Spock.” 

Spock didn’t respond and Eleanor left her standing outside of the restroom. The more she thought about it, scanning the crowd for Christine and Nyota, the more she started to wonder if she’d actually managed to hurt Spock’s feelings. 

She pushed the thought away once she’d found her friends and tried not to let it bother her for the rest of the night.

***

 

Eleanor’s father was still sick when she came home to Brookhaven for winter break. Her mother was more or less thrilled to see her, though, and Eleanor was so ready to be distracted from her essay and her last conversation with Spock that she didn’t mind spending most of her break being taken out to go shopping and to fancy restaurants and to visit her mother’s friends. 

She enjoyed stepping outside into the humid Georgia winter, going the entire three weeks without having to unpack the heavy coats and sweaters she wore at school. The week after Christmas the two of them drove downtown to Atlanta and spent a day there. Eleanor’s mom took a surprising number of pictures while they were shopping and touring Georgia Tech for the tenth time, and especially when, on some odd surge of holiday spirit, Eleanor decided to go ice skating. 

The two of them were never big on mother-daughter bonding. When she was younger Eleanor always spent more time with her father, which led to a few years of unspoken resentment that her mother was seemingly getting over now. Eleanor didn’t like to think about it, but their newfound harmony with each other was probably there because both of them knew they’d be on their own pretty soon. 

In all honesty Eleanor was relieved to see her mother trying. Even though she sat opposite of her admittedly very gay daughter at a Georgia Tech Starbucks and talked about how college will be a great place for her to find a man, she was trying her best.

Jim called Eleanor’s home phone after she got back that night. Caller ID showed the caller as George Kirk and Eleanor almost let it go to voicemail. On the likelihood that it was actually Jim’s dad calling and the subject of the call was either Jim being arrested or Mr. and Mrs. Kirk calling for advice on transferring Jim to a new school (to which she would suggest that there’s a fantastic boarding school out in Iowa) she finally picked up.

“You’ve reached the McCoys.” She said with a layer of fake pep. 

“Mission accomplished.” Jim’s idiot voice was still the same over the phone and Eleanor rolled her eyes.

“How did you get this number?”

“Did you know Sepphora has all of your information?”

“Yeah, it’s a roommate thing. The school expects roommates to be responsible for one another during breaks. I have all her shit, too.”

“Well, it’s not like she asked me to call you or anything, because she didn’t. But also she’s been weirdly moody and she keeps bringing you up in conversations and I wanna know what the heck you did to her.”

“I can’t imagine Spock doing either of those things.”

“Do you always call her Spock?”

“She asked me to.”

Jim exhaled loudly. 

“I have  _ so  _ many questions about what goes on between you two.”

Eleanor wasn’t sure how she wanted to react, but she was in a good mood tonight, so she humored him, sitting down on the kitchen floor.

“You can ask three questions and then I’m hanging up.”

“Someone’s feeling generous. I think I like post-Christmas Eleanor. Or Ellen? Your friends call you Ellen, can  _ I _ call you Ellen?”

“Don’t push it.”

“Okay. Question one: what the heck did you do to Sepphora?”

“I told her the truth, that she was petty and mean to me for no reason and that I think it’s because she considers herself unloveable.”

“That’s harsh.”

“It was more eloquently put than that.” Eleanor held the phone between her ear and her shoulder and scooted over to the refrigerator, pulling out the last of the eggnog. She took an irresponsibly large sip.

“She’s a lot more sensitive than you think, you know. The stoicism, it’s… kind of an act sometimes.”

“I treated her like the person she wants me to see her as.”

“Well I could say something about that but, question two: did you two always hate each other or was this some sort of development after you got to know one another?”

“Spock was a jerk the first night we met. I was fine with us ignoring each other, and then she started trying to fuck with my extended essay. And I’m not exaggerating here.  _ She _ started it.”

“Yikes.”

Eleanor grunted in agreement and drank more eggnog. 

“You know, I don’t think I want to know the details of that one.” Jim said, “Alright last question. I gotta think about this one.”

“Take your time, it’s not like I have other things I could be doing.”

“You sure know how to make a guy feel special, Eleanor.”

Eleanor sighed and Jim laughed. She decided that she didn’t hate Jim Kirk, not completely. 

“This is fun. This is like one of those sci-fi shows where you’re cursed by some alien to tell the truth all the time. Okay, question number three-”

“I always tell the truth. I don’t need a damn  _ alien _ -”

“Question number three: you and Seph totally hooked up or something, didn’t you?”

She could hear the goddamn smirk through the phone. 

“I’m hanging up.”

“I KNEW IT!  _ I knew it _ .”

“Bye Jim.”

Eleanor hung up the phone and stood up to put it back on the counter. She carried the half-empty bottle of eggnog upstairs to her bedroom, leaving a trail of clothes to her bed until finally flopping down on top of it. She grabbed her laptop off the floor and, in true American holiday fashion, watched HGTV and drank eggnog in her underwear until after midnight. 

The rest of the winter break went by in a similar fashion: friendly outings with her mother, reading and rereading the same books at her father’s bedside, calling her friends, and staying up late eating poorly and watching shitty TV. She boarded the plane for Vermont feeling relaxed and more or less excited to hear back from Johns Hopkins and get the semester over with.

And then, just after takeoff, Eleanor realized that the “winner” of the extended essay assignment was going to be announced in less than a week. She wondered if it was unethical to bribe the man sitting next to her into buying her alcohol. 

 

***

 

Eleanor was laying on her bed staring at the ceiling when Spock showed up. She was wearing a giant blue coat and her nose was pink from the cold. Eleanor didn’t know what to say.

“Hi.” Spock spoke and closed the door with the same gentleness. 

“Hi.” Eleanor replied. She sat up on her elbows and watched as Spock lifted her suitcase onto the bed and started taking her layers off. Spock must have had some change of heart over the break, or maybe she lost a bet with Jim, but once she was down to her uniform she sat on her bed and tried to start a conversation. 

“How was your break, Eleanor?”

She promised herself that she would only be bitchy if Spoke provoked it, but she squinted at that on instinct. 

“Are you asking because you want to know or because you’re trying to be nice?”

“Both.” She answered, “Although I still would prefer an honest answer.”

Eleanor wanted to sigh, but she didn’t. She tried to smile a little bit.

“It was nice. I ate a lot. I miss the weather down there.”

“Is it warm?” Spock sounded almost like she was interested. Or maybe Eleanor just didn’t know the difference.

“Well not _ warm _ warm, not like it is in the spring or fall, but a hell of a lot warmer than up here.”

Spock nodded.

“How was Scarsdale? I mean, other than the fact that you had to see Jim Kirk.”

If it were anyone else Eleanor felt like she might have gotten a laugh out of that, or even a smile, or the subtle, Spock equivalent of a smile, but she had started to suspect that Jim and Spock were actually really close. 

“Jim and Scarsdale were both acceptable.”

“Acceptable.” Eleanor breathed out a laugh, “I’m not trying to insult you, honestly, I just want to know. Why do you always talk like that?”

“I speak so that I cannot be misunderstood.” Spock said, as if it were obvious.

“You’ve never tried being more conversational?”

“I have. It felt… awkward.”

Eleanor laughed, trying to imagine her saying something extreme like  _ swaggy _ or  _ motherfucker _ . She made a note to ask Jim about that later, because it was pretty likely that he was there for the event of Spock trying to talk like a teenager. 

Spock was still sitting on her bed next to an unpacked suitcase. She looked at Eleanor like she wanted her to keep talking, leaning slightly to give her her full attention. Eleanor couldn’t help but wonder what had changed, that Spock was suddenly trying so hard to be friends. She’d go along with it so long as there wasn’t some gross heart-to-heart in the near future. Or in the far future. Or at all. 

“You and Jim are really close, aren’t you?”

Spock nodded.

“I would say I don’t believe it but I’m starting to think my perception of Jim might be a little off.”

“Jim is… annoying, but his other qualities make that tolerable.”

“Is he your only friend?” Right after it came out Eleanor realized that that question was not okay. It was subtle, but Spock’s entire face changed to something more defensive, pulling in on herself while she thought of how to answer.

“I’m sorry.” Eleanor said, trying to push their conversation back into comfortable territory, “The thing I said about you having no friends was really shitty, you don’t… you don’t have to answer that.”

Eleanor looked down and focused on a section of the floor between them, where one length of wood met the next. She accepted the likelihood that their conversation was probably over. 

“Yes.” Spock finally answered, and Eleanor looked up. Spock’s face was still tight with discomfort but she kept talking. “Jim is my only friend.”

Neither of them looked at each other or said anything for a few seconds. Eleanor sighed and wanted to punch herself for the words that were about to come out of her mouth. 

“Do you want to be friends?”

Spock’s eyes widened a fraction. She opened her mouth to say something and then closed it again, standing up and unzipping her suitcase. Eleanor watched her unpack neatly folded clothes and place them in drawers with an instinctive gracefulness. She closed the last drawer slowly when she was done. 

“Although I have spent the last two and a half months attempting to convince myself otherwise, I find that I am very attracted to you.” She said, staring at the top of her dresser. Eleanor’s heart raced and her body froze up. She watched Spock in disbelief. 

The air in the room became heavy, almost impossible to breathe, because they both knew that this wasn’t new information. It was easy last semester to pretend that the tension between them came from the competition, from the sabotage and the fighting and not because they wanted each other. Eleanor let herself believe that Spock made her nervous because she made her angry; Spock was probably doing the same. 

Eleanor tried to think of the best thing, or  _ anything _ , to say. Spock finally looked at her and her face seemed to mirror what Eleanor was thinking. 

Both of them quickly turned away when they heard a knock on the door. Eleanor stood up.

“That’s… probably Christine. I’m gonna go down for dinner.”

Spock nodded.

“Do you want to come with?”

“No. Thank you.”

 

***

 

On their first day back, the principal gave her usual Welcome Back to the Best School Ever speech. Eleanor tuned it out, taking slow, tired sips of coffee and occasionally glancing at Spock, who was sitting a few tables away. Christine tapped her on the shoulder and she looked up.

“What is it?” Eleanor whispered.

“You might want to listen to this.” Christine pointed to the front of the dining hall. The principal was still standing there, although now a woman who Eleanor recognized as the head of the Science Department was standing behind her. They must have been making a special announcement for all of the students who turned in essays before the break. 

“...as your teachers mentioned at the beginning of the assignment,” she said, her voice losing its usual announcement-cheeriness, “pranks, bullying, cheating, forgery, and other forms of sabotage are  _ not  _ going to be tolerated. Many of our faculty members have heard rumors of these things going on among students, and actions will be taken.”

“Shit.” Christine muttered under her breath. The principal continued.

“We ask that any students who witnessed, or carried out, these practices, report it to the science department before we recognize the scholarship recipient on Friday. If you confess to having committed an act of academic sabotage on another student your essay will receive no recognition, but if another student reports you and you do not come forward in the next few days, you  _ will _ be suspended. Is that clear, ladies?”

The dining hall echoed with murmurs of agreement and then the principal stepped down and everything went back to normal. Eleanor felt her face heat up. 

“Should I say something?”

“Yes.” Nyota tried to keep her voice down from across the table, “You should most  _ definitely _ tell them that Spock kept trying to screw you over.”

“Maybe don’t mention the time Spock actually literally screwed you over, though.”

Eleanor shot Gaila a look and Gaila twitched her eyebrows up. Christine intervened.

“It’s up to you. But, out of all the shit that went on between you and Spock, you were mostly at the receiving end. If you tell them everything they probably won’t take our essay out of consideration.”

“You’ve got nothing to lose.” Nyota shrugged. 

Except Eleanor did have something to lose, because even though she hadn’t told her friends yet, her relationship with Spock still felt like it was hanging precariously between two opposites. They were inches away from being enemies again and inches away from something that could qualify as lovers. She sat at the table, unable to finish her breakfast as her stomach started trying itself in knots. 

Breakfast got out and Eleanor unintentionally watched for which people turned to go to the school building and which of them nervously headed for the offices, or, more specifically, to the science department office. She figured that she could always report Spock later if she wanted to, that she would let herself think about it for at least a day.

And then Eleanor caught a glimpse of the back of Spock’s head, walking towards the office faster than usual. Before she could think about it Eleanor was pushing through the crowd to chase after her. 

Spock could probably hear her trying to catch up, but she pretended not to notice. Eleanor tried calling after her and Spock sped up. 

She caught a glimpse of a supply closet on the right and, in a swift, stupid, and very careless change in plans, Eleanor grabbed Spock by the arm and dragged her inside, shutting them both in. 

“Don’t do it.” Eleanor said, voice loud in the tiny closet. She couldn’t see Spock in the dark but she could hear her moving her arm around, could feel warmth coming off of her body as they stood less than a foot away. A few seconds later Spock flipped the light switch and they were staring at each other as if it was a surprise that they were both in there together.

“You were going to turn yourself in. Don’t do it.” Eleanor clumsily wiped the sweat from her forehead. 

“I am guilty.” Spock said calmly, “Logically, you should be encouraging me to confess.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t care, okay, I’m over it.”

“The way I treated you last semester was unforgivable, Eleanor.”

That was an apology. Spock was apologizing to her.

“I don’t care. Just don’t turn yourself in, okay? I wasn’t going to tell them anything.”

Spock cocked her head to the side.

“Why not?”

“Because…” Eleanor fidgeted impatiently. She wanted Spock to  _ get _ it without having to tell her because if she kept talking she was going to do something stupid like cry or try to hold Spock’s hand.

“I just… I just don’t think it matters, alright? I don’t want you to be disqualified over meaningless shit, okay, it doesn’t matter.”

“Meaningless?” Spock asked, her voice too quiet. 

“That’s not what I meant. Jesus christ, Spock.”

“You said that-”

“I know what I said, I just meant that…” Eleanor sighed. 

Spock’s face was entirely unreadable and yet, looking into her dark eyes made Eleanor pretty certain that kissing her was an appropriate response. She reached forward and tucked Spock’s hair behind her ears, held her face in her hands and moved slow enough that Spock could stop it all if she wanted. 

They had only kissed twice before. The first time it was a joke and the second was desperate and harsh and Eleanor realized that she had no idea how Spock liked to be kissed. She pressed their lips together tentatively, learning the shape of Spock’s mouth, ghosting her thumbs over the curve of her cheekbones. Spock sighed gently and wrapped her arms around Eleanor’s waist.

Eleanor pulled back.

“That’s what I meant, Spock.”

Spock closed the gap between them and kissed her again, not quite desperate but eager enough. She pulled Eleanor closer and Eleanor couldn’t help smiling into the kiss, running her fingers through Spock’s hair until she hummed in contentment. They pulled apart again and Spock paused. 

“Eleanor.”

“Yeah?” 

“If it’s possible for you to make the transition, I would prefer if you called me Sepphora.”

Eleanor laughed, letting her hands settle on Spock’s--Sepphora’s--shoulders.

“I knew you didn’t like being called Spock. I fuckin' knew it.”

“You are, on occasion, more perceptive than you appear to be.” Spock said flatly. 

“I’ll take it.” Eleanor said, and kissed her again. 

 

***

 

Rather than interrupt breakfast or try to herd all of the seniors into one room, the head of the science department announced the winner of the scholarship over the PA system Friday afternoon. Eleanor was in Spanish class when it happened, sitting next to Christine and trying to remember what the hell a reflexive verb was, when the intercom came on. Christine grabbed Eleanor’s hand under the desk, and even though she’d been pretty calm about it all week, Eleanor held on tightly. The entire class stared at the speaker on the ceiling, including the ones who hadn’t submitted essays.

“We would like to congratulate every student who wrote and submitted an extended essay. All entries were unique, thoughtful, and impressive, and reading them made us proud to have such bright students.”

Eleanor suppressed a groan. 

“However, after careful consideration, and even after many reports of misconduct came to light, there was one essay that really stood out to us and to the universities we partnered with. So, without further ado…”

Christine was whispering  _ please please please  _ under her breath and Eleanor almost wanted to join in. 

“The Science Department of Mary F. Sommerville would like to extend both academic recognition and future college scholarships to Nyota Uhura, for her essay on The Science of Institutionalized Learning, which stands as both an excellent analysis of how young people respond to standardized education, as well as a sound argument for why psychology deserves more respect in in the world of science, technology, engineering, and math. Congratulations, Nyota!”

Applause echoed in the room and through the walls. Eleanor could see disappointment and jealousy on a lot of her classmates’ faces but she could only feel excited. Christine kept saying _ oh my god  _ and they both grinned at each other as if they had won, and neither of them could calm down enough to get any work done for the rest of the class. 

They ran out to the quad to find Nyota after school got out. She was sitting with Gaila under the tree, eyes still wet from crying and sparkling in the daylight. Christine sprinted past Eleanor and scooped Nyota up into a hug, laughing cheerfully and kissing her again and again. Eleanor started. 

“Wait, are you two together?”

Everyone froze, Christine and Nyota still holding each other and Gaila staring at Eleanor in disbelief.

“You didn’t know?” Gaila asked. Eleanor shrugged.

“Christine and I are together.” Nyota laughed. Christine lifted her off the ground and spun them around in circles, the two of them happier than they’d been in a long time. Eleanor smiled as it all started to make sense. They always had a way of looking at each other, like they had a secret that nobody else knew. Eleanor had previously wondered why they  _ weren’t _ dating. It was so uncommon to find someone to really connect with, someone who, in a room full of people, will only be looking at you. 

Eleanor suddenly realized. She cleared her throat awkwardly and Christine looked up from whatever cute shit she was doing with Nyota. 

“Hey, um, I’m gonna go find Sepphora.”

“Okay.” Christine said. None of them had commented on the fact that Eleanor stopped calling her Spock a few days earlier. Christine probably knew that she would tell them all what was going on eventually, and until then it only mattered that Eleanor was doing okay and not feeling homicidal. 

She started walking down the hill towards the dorms.

“Go find her and come back!” Gaila called after her.

“Yeah.” Nyota said, “Tell her we want her here. With us.”

Eleanor smiled and did just that. 


End file.
